


heartaches and hangovers

by inquisitor_tohru



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Galaxy's Edge: Black Spire - Delilah S. Dawson
Genre: Armitage Hux Has Issues, Armitage Hux Lives, Brendol Hux's A+ Parenting, Cardinal Lives, Drunk Sex, Hand Jobs, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Injury Recovery, Leia Organa Lives, M/M, Mentioned Brendol Hux, Mildly Dubious Consent, Morning After, Post-Canon Fix-It, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Trauma, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:47:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27088114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inquisitor_tohru/pseuds/inquisitor_tohru
Summary: Archex could remember thehowbut not thewhyof falling into bed with Armitage Hux.
Relationships: Cardinal | Archex/Armitage Hux, Cardinal/Armitage Hux
Comments: 11
Kudos: 13
Collections: Star Wars Rare Pairs 2020





	heartaches and hangovers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Filigranka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Filigranka/gifts).



Archex woke up in a tangle of long white limbs. For all they were roughly the same height, the other man's arms and legs seemed bizarrely elongated, no more so than now, in their nakedness. He could remember the  _ how  _ but not the  _ why  _ of falling into bed with Armitage Hux. He was perfectly ready to blame the Corellian wine that had been flowing rather generously the previous night, after Finn, Jannah, and their team had liberated another dozen or so young stormtroopers. Archex had been in high spirits even before the drinking had begun, knowing that at least some of the children he'd helped raise had turned out so well. He wasn't sure how much of that had been his influence, but it made him happy all the same. 

He still wasn't sure how he felt about waking up next to Armitage. There probably wasn't an easy answer to that question. He nudged the skinny arm draped over his waist, relieved that  _ that _ at least was easy. He didn't really hate him anymore, but it wasn't as if they'd suddenly become  _ friends.  _ It had been around two years ago when General Organa had asked Vi to collaborate with Archex and, since her retirement (at least,  _ officially  _ speaking), General Dameron had trusted him to work alongside Armitage - and when he'd thought of it that way, it had been a little easier to bear. They'd even had matching limps. But this time Archex wasn't the one wearing a slim, silver tracker on his good leg.

After checking his chrono, he rolled onto his back and watched Armitage's chest rise and fall, the gentle light of the pulmonodes pulsing with each breath, each heartbeat. He'd been luckier than Archex with his leg, which would heal, but not so lucky when it came to his heart or lungs. The soft glow beneath thin, still healing skin was almost beautiful.  _ Almost, _ because beautiful had never been a word he, or anyone he'd ever known, would have associated with Armitage. Presentable, to be sure. Meticulous, even, or fussy if you were less generously inclined. Or a pinched little fox, if you were Vi Moradi. 

But Archex did have to admit that he looked less severe as he slept, without carefully gelled hair or the heavy make up he'd worn to hide his freckles or other supposed 'blemishes' in the harshly lit corridors of whichever Star Destroyer he was assigned to at the time. Now, somehow, he looked both younger and older than his thirty-six years. Archex looked away when his pale eyelashes fluttered, partly because it would be embarrassing to get caught staring, but also because he recalled how sensitive, perhaps even bordering on  _ insecure, _ Armitage had been about his body last night, even after several glasses of that dry red wine he enjoyed so much. 

The first time they'd been able to have any kind of civil conversation had been a few weeks after Armitage had joined them at the Resistance HQ on Batuu, over tarine tea. Archex far preferred caf over tea, but it was easy to harvest the bitter, withered leaves from the bushes in the garden, and dry them on the racks he'd built with Dolin. It was an acquired taste, but caf was costly on Batuu, and most people were willing to make do, and they could always sweeten it with honey from the hives. Without any kind of sugar, it was bitter as sin, and poor Kriki's four nostrils had twitched when she tried it, her soft fur bristling.

Naturally, it was Armitage's favourite beverage - no sugar. There were plenty of remarks Archex could have made about that, but he'd kept them to himself, even though Armitage had snapped at him at least five times during their last conversation. He wondered if Vi had to do that when they first worked together, and thought that she probably had. She was a better person than he was, but that gave him something to aspire to. So, instead, he'd shown Armitage how to produce tea, with the hope that tending to the plants and having something to do with his hands might provide some kind of relaxation. Their experiences with Brendol, and with the First Order as a whole, had been different. But Armitage had his own kind of 'deprogramming' to undergo, and this was better than meditation and interpretive dance, that was for sure. And he'd actually been good with his ha-

When Armitage opened his eyes, Archex abruptly stopped that train of thought before it went any further. Armitage grumbled something unintelligible, presumably some complaint about the lingering effects of the wine, or the bunk being too small, or his leg hurting. Or maybe about waking up next to Archex, but he preferred not to consider that until he'd had a hot drink and some porridge. He didn't need to know how Armitage felt about it before he knew how  _ he  _ felt about it. He braced himself when Armitage opened his mouth again.

"What time is it?" was all he said.

"Six," Archex said, forcing himself not to use the military jargon they'd both been accustomed to for so long. He wasn't Captain Cardinal, and he wasn't with the First Order. The war was over, and he was an ordinary civilian now, and that was that. Armitage gave a sound of drowsy acknowledgement as he put great effort into rolling onto his side without aggravating his leg injury. Archex had been genuinely surprised how accommodating and  _ gentle  _ Armitage had been regarding his own injuries the night before, when- 

No. He wasn't going to think about that. Not yet.

Slowly and carefully, he swung his legs out of the bunk, opened a drawer, and pulled on a clean pair of boxer shorts. Archex's morning exercise routine tended to ground him, as well as wake him up a bit, especially after a night when he'd had a drink or two, but not this time. His leg hurt more than it had done yesterday, and he could feel Armitage's eyes upon him, throwing him right off balance as he tried to do his pushups. He counted in silence, finishing his set regardless.

"Come back to bed," Armitage murmured, words still slurring. Just how many glasses of wine had he  _ had  _ last night? It didn't feel quite right getting back  _ into _ bed when the only evidence of his own drinking was a dry mouth and slight headache, so Archex hesitated before perching on the edge of the bunk. When he looked at him, Armitage was dangerously close to pouting, which made it very hard for Archex to keep a straight face. He'd been like that last night, too, but Archex hadn't really minded acquiescing when it had ended up with Armitage straddling him and-

_ Damn it.  _ Had he really managed to abandon  _ all _ semblance of order, of self-discipline since committing to the Resistance?  _ No, _ he knew, but it was beginning to feel like it when Armitage slipped his hand into his underwear, curling his fingers around his half-hard cock, and Archex  _ let _ him. At least, for a moment, before asking him the question they'd both been avoiding.

"Are we going to  _ talk _ about it?" Armitage sighed in a way that was an answer all on its own. Except that it  _ wasn't.  _ No answer to any of the questions Archex might have asked was so simple.

"Which part?" Armitage asked, still stroking him, albeit at an extremely lazy pace. Archex was regrettably, inexplicably still hard (human bodies were  _ stupid  _ like that), as he figured out which part he needed - though didn't  _ want -  _ to ask about. 

"The part where you had sex with me to avoid talking about Brendol." 

"You really want to talk about _that_ now?" He gently squeezed Archex's cock, ran his thumb over the tip. It would have been so easy to just say no, and it wouldn't even have been a lie. But they'd avoided the topic for far too long, and when Archex had finally managed, with a little liquid courage...well, _this_ had happened.

"I think-" He faltered a moment as Armitage rose behind him, teeth scraping against his neck before nipping at the tender skin, like a warning. "I think," he said, this time with more conviction, "that we need to." This time, Armitage abruptly stopped what he was doing, to Archex's disappointment and _relief._

"You mean  _ you  _ need to," he said, pulling the woolen blankets tightly around himself, "I assure you that I certainly don't want  _ or  _ need to talk about…" He trailed off, reluctant to even say his father's name, lest it should conjure his spirit. "He's  _ dead.  _ Next topic of conversation? So long as it isn't Phasma or Kath." Archex clenched and unclenched his fist, determined.

"I've had a lot of time to think, since leaving the FO." He hadn't had time for much else during his 'rehabilitation', save for weaving baskets and infuriatingly gentle stretches. He ignored Armitage rolling his eyes and continued. "And I think us hating each other was what  _ he  _ wanted." Armitage said something that sounded suspiciously like  _ no shit,  _ but Archex assumed he must have misheard, since the notion of him cursing just seemed far too ridiculous.

"You know, Kath wasn't tasked with finding  _ you. _ His orders were to investigate the rumours of a Resistance presence on Batuu."

"Rumours of the spy who took  _ me.  _ Stop changing the subject." Armitage pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath.

"You're an idiot, Ca-  _ Archex. _ What I was trying to say...is that I didn't  _ hate  _ you, as stubborn and infuriating as you can be." As usual, Armitage certainly had a way with words. But it didn't really  _ sting  _ the way it had done the last time he'd called Archex an idiot - or the time he'd called  _ Cardinal  _ an idiot. Archex was a terrible liar, so he didn't bother saying that he hadn't hated Armitage, and he wasn't quite sure how to articulate the fact that even when he  _ had  _ hated him, there had also been ways in which he had appreciated him. Brendol might have painted his son as a weak, ungrateful sycophant, but he'd never been able to completely pull the wool over Archex's eyes when it came to witnessing Armitage's work ethic, or the care he put into developing the child troopers' program. Of course, that last point was, in hindsight, a little more disturbing than he'd been willing to believe at the time...and that was on both of them.

Instead, he settled for saying, "I don't hate you now." He might not be sure how he  _ did  _ feel, but that much was true. Armitage's expression was difficult for him to read, though he was sure Vi wouldn't have had such trouble. Alas, Archex had never received a spy's education.

"I did have a hunch," Armitage said, "and I don't _blame_ you for despising me. I was far from what anyone might describe as _nice_ to you." He paused, as if resigning himself to the fact that they were now, _finally,_ talking about this. "In a way, it might have been _easier_ if you really had been some incompetant, bumbling fool. Then I could at least have… But, no, you actually deserved his praise. _Earned_ it." He must have learned something from Vi after all, since he was able to hear what Armitage _hadn't_ said - that if Archex was clearly deserving of Brendol's approval, had earned it through hard work and following the rules, then it was Armitage himself who was the problem, who was _un_ deserving. 

Archex reached for Armitage's hand, still in his lap, rubbing the palm with his thumb. It would be a long time before this conversation was over, if it  _ could  _ ever truly be over, and he felt...surprisingly okay about that. They understood one another in ways that no one else here was able to, that no one else in the Order had been able to. It counted for something, even if he hadn't quite figured out what that something was. He would, though, in time.

But for now, two cups of caf and some painkillers would do just fine.


End file.
